


in search of silver linings (we discovered gold)

by biochemprincess



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biochemprincess/pseuds/biochemprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve asks Jemma a favour, and things don't go as planned. (Or: Jemma defies the laws of nature.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	in search of silver linings (we discovered gold)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleeplessmiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/gifts).



> First things first: Happy (slightly belated) birthday, Sarah! Celebrate to the sound of Taylor Swift.  
> I hope I did your prompt justice. :)
> 
> The story goes AU after season 2, just pretend that the last scene of the finale never happened and Simmons has not been swallowed by an alien stone. She is healthy and happy. (May also never went on vacation. Though she'd really deserve one.) :)

* * *

 

_**i.** _

 

 

The story goes like this:

 

 

_**ii.** _

 

 

"Simmons, there is a video call for you in Coulson's office." Lance sticks his head in the door. "And what are you two even doing here with Bob? Looks like she's some alien you're experimenting on."

Jemma turns around for only a moment, intending to give him a dirty look, before changing her mind. She's simply tired- they all are - that's all. And Hunter has the unfortunate talent to become especially annoying when he's lacking sleep.

He's the older brother she never had and never really wanted.

(Though she tends not to think about older brothers in general; it makes her want to finish what she started with Ward and she tries everything in her powers to not go there - mentally and physically. The talks with Andrew help, though he does the talking 90% of the time and she stubbornly refuses to.)

The aftermath of the battle with the Inhumans and Hydra is still very present, not only in their minds, but also their workload. Skye is non-stop pushing her limits to find gifted people, often with the help of Lincoln. Meanwhile Fitz, Mack and of course herself are trying their best to solve the mystery of the Kree Stone.

Together they would be able to rebuild Shield, they only had to work around a minor setback.

"Bobbi is a very uncooperative patient." Jemma says, directly averting her gaze at the woman on the stretcher in front of her.

"Tell me something new." Lance mumbles under his breath.

"Oh shut up, the two of you." Bobbi resists. She remains completely still, as a scanner awakes to life with a faint buzzing sound and scans over her right leg.

The bruises on her face have disappeared by now; the knee is the only reminder of what has happened to her.

(And the regular talks with Andrew, right after Jemma's session.)

"We're creating a special splint to support her knee, so she doesn't have to use her crutches anymore." Fitz says, barely stifling a yawn. He doesn't look any better, just exactly as sleep deprived as all of them.

Bobbi does her best to salute properly, but it looks somewhat strange in her horizontal position. "Always glad to be of help."

"We requested a 3D - printer and Coulson finally authorized it. Bobbi with her bad knee serves as our guinea pig." Jemma clarifies further. Lance only nods and watches. "We hope to extend our work and replace Coulson's hand.

"Come again? You want to print a hand for Coulson?"

Jemma and Fitz look at each other over Bobbi's body, before turning to face Lance again and answering in unison.

"Of course." "Absolutely."

A knowing smirk appears on Hunter's face, "Is this what Skye calls 'fitzsimmonsing'? She already warned me about that, guys. No need to be embarrassed. We already talked about matching t-shirts for the two of you."

Jemma blushes involuntarily. Out of the corners of her eye she catches Fitz doing the same. She's only now getting used to their new, unfamiliar situation. It's not awkward (only sometimes, only a little).

They haven't yet figured out of to really exist in each other's orbit again, without colliding all the time. They also don't quite know how to talk about what happened to them. Yet.

Their first date had been successful, a peaceful dinner in a nice restaurant near the base. It had felt different than any other dates they had had before, but not unwelcome. But all of it still can't magically fix the last year, make them forget the hell they have gone through.

Jemma is optimistic they're going to figure it out. She has hope, and hope is like a light within, holding everything in place.

 

_What do you feel, when you cannot sleep?_

_Guilt._

_What for?_

_Surviving unharmed._

 

"Not to be a spoilsport, but the video call is still waiting for you, Simmons. And Coulson had his urgent director voice, you know the one where you think he has a heart attack?" He tries to imitate, but fails rather miserably.

Jemma doesn't know what voice he is talking about exactly, but she appreciates the sentiment. The technical aspects of the printer are more Fitz's field of expertise anyway, so Jemma sheds her gloves and disposes them in the nearest bin.

"I'm back in a minute."

"I'll keep my bro company while you're away. Right, Fitz?"

Fitz looks Lance straight in the eye, then looks at her. "Don't leave me alone with them, Jemma."

"At least you've still got me, Fitzy." Bobbi remarks.

"You're literally bed-ridden, Bobbi. Not so helpful."

"That's not nice, Bambi."

"Why would the boy need your help in the first place, Bob? Am I not lovable?"

"Do you think I'll dignify this with a response, Hunter? Fitz, tell him he's an idiot."

"Uhh, I don't think ---"

"Fine, I'll tell him myself." Directed at Hunter: "You're an idiot."

"That's all?"

"Give it time. It'll eat at you."

Jemma watches them a little longer, before heading out of the room. "Behave kids!" She shouts back at them.

She walks down the hallway to Coulson's office quickly and knocks on his door once, but he already invites her in.

"Come in, Simmons."

Coulson is standing in the middle of the room, almost sitting in front of his desk, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of him. It takes Jemma a second look before she realizes who the caller is.

Captain America's face is staring at her from the wall larger than life.

She's suddenly not so tired anymore.

 

 

_**iii.** _

 

 

"Would you please leave us alone, Coulson?" Rogers says, directly looking at him.

Couson doesn't look too happy about the request, but does as asked. "Sure."

"I'll let you know when we're done, Sir." Jemma tells him reassuringly. Good things it's Captain America asking and not somebody else, she thinks.

When Coulson closes the door behind him, Jemma dares to speak again. "What is it you want to talk to me about, Captain?"

"Before we start can we please establish that you call me Steve? I feel old otherwise."

"Sure." She quickly does some math in her head, before adding, "If it makes you feel better, based on your physical age, you're only roughly three years older than me."

He laughs. "That's indeed helpful, thanks."

She waits for him to start talking again, but he seems to be at loss for words. Jemma eyes his face and notices the same features she sees daily in her teammates - dark circles framing dull eyes, signs of sleepless nights and too much stress.

"I'd like to buy some time."

"Excuse me?"

Steve lets out a nervous laugh, and the bad audio equipment distorts the sound into something out of a bad horror movie.

"I'm sorry, that sounds ridiculous. It's about my friend ---"

"Sergeant Barnes?" Jemma ends the sentence; her stomach is in knots, tangled together by fear and uncertainty.

He only shakes his head. "No, that's another story. Nothing you can fix with science, at least not right now. No, it has to do with --- It's Peggy Carter."

Now it is Jemma's turn to remain speechless. Everybody and their mother knows about her fascination with Peggy Carter. But she's not sure what Steve is asking from her.

"I know she's not --- I mean --- Helen, Helen Cho, you know her?"

Jemma nods. They had met only once, briefly, at a conference some years ago, when she'd still worked in the lab with Fitz at the SHIELD headquarters, when there had been a SHIELD to begin with.

Their work had been similar in some areas and they had kept loose email contact through the years, at least until she'd been transferred to the Bus and things got - complicated.

"She said you're the best scientist anyone could find."

"I'm not a medical doctor."

It's the disclaimer she gives ahead these days, because she's not sure people understand. She'd patched up too many people, friends and foes, these last two years and she's not sure she can keep up with this bad habit.

 

_I don't know what kind of person I am anymore._

_Why?_

_There's so much blood on my hands._

 

"But you're a biochemist. Helen said if you worked together, you could ---" Steve doesn't finish what he's saying, but he doesn't have to. Jemma can do it herself.

"We could buy some time." Jemma says, more to herself than him. The silence that follows weighs heavy in the air, like an unspoken threat, knives to her throat.

"Yes. I know firsthand that science can do unbelievable things to the human body."

"I don't know what you expect me to do."

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but obviously thinks of something else before speaking. "Try." He doesn't elaborate on what he wants her to try, she understands regardless.

Jemma considers his words, before nodding. Steve lets out a sigh of relief.

"One last request: Could you keep it a secret? Where you are going?"

"No." It's out of her mouth before she can think about it, really think what she's saying, but Jemma knows that she won't take it back.

She is aware of the Captain's status, that he's basically the leader of the 'New Avengers' now - Coulson had filled them in during a meeting a few weeks back, after the dust of their latest war had settled - but this is something she can't do, not again.

"I don't keep secrets about my whereabouts from my team anymore." Jemma hopes he understands what she trying to tell him without explicitly saying it, hopes 'anymore' is a good enough word to convey the idea.

HYDRA had almost destroyed her - she had come apart at the seams in the aftermath of her undercover op, and she not sure if she could pull herself together another time if she had to do it again.

She's not sure if Fitz and Skye would ever forgive her again.

(She's not sure she'd forgive herself ever again.)

"They are trustworthy, if you're afraid of anything getting." Jemma adds in an attempt to soften him up.

"No, I know there's no reason for concern. I have a lot of trust in you and your team. It's more --- Maybe I'm a little paranoid?"

"That's fine." she smiles at him.

Smiling back Steve says, "It's alright. Tell them. Just keep the amount of insiders small."

"I will. Thank you."

"How long will you need to prepare?"

Jemma takes a quick glance at the clock on the wall, it's almost lunch time. "Late afternoon, I think."

"Someone will pick you up at 7, alright?" It hardly sounds like a question anymore, no matter how much emphasize he puts on the question mark.

"Yes. I'll be ready."

 

 

_**iv.** _

 

 

The promised quinjet arrives at 7pm sharp, just as Jemma is transferring the last data to the external harddrive, she borrowed from Skye. There are loads of documents from her GH 325 research on the servers, including many of Coulson's and Skye's blood parameters, and she'd take a look into them.

It's not like she could re-create the serum. Or should - the damaging effects on the human psyche were - and still are - too severe to risk it. But maybe it could give her a clue on how to start her research, it certainly won't hurt.

The whole day had passed in a blur. After she'd ended the call, she had immediately informed May and Coulson, about her next steps. Both had started to set up her short trip. Jemma had then talked to the others - mainly Fitz and Skye - and filled them in. A short nap and emergency packing of her suitcase later, she is in the lab and waiting for the data exchange to complete.

"How long will you be gone?" Skye asks with concern. She's hovering near the desk, biting on her lip.

"I don't know. He didn't really give me anything to work with."

"But you're coming back soon?"

Jemma looks up, into Skye's almost frightened face. They have gone through too much shit in the last months, to split up again.

They both are all too well aware.

So Jemma puts all her confidence, all that is left, into a smile. "As soon as I can."

"Okay. We - I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't." Jemma reassures. "And it's not --- it's not like the last time. You can call. All the time. I'll pick up."

"Trust me, I will. Who else can I complain to about all the Inhuman stuff?" They both laugh at this. Skye helps her carry the bag to the exit. Fitz and May join them to say goodbye to her. It's a humid evening, with clouds that look like a watercolour paining. The sound of the arriving aircraft is coming closer and closer.

She and Fitz gravitate towards each other slowly, until they stand next to each other a little awkwardly; the quinjet a huge black shadow in the sky above them. Fitz leans towards her, gently placing a soft kiss on her cheek, right at the corner of her lips.

Butterflies revolt in her stomach, warm and fluttering so lightly. The explanation is for her reaction is easy. Adrenalin and other chemicals are released into her blood stream, causing her heart to beat faster, all of it is happening in her body right this second.

But Jemma rather wants to believe in butterflies instead, only for once.

She wishes she could stay.

But she had promised Steve she'd come. And she doesn't break promises.

She feels the presence of May and Skye behind them, watching but still giving them space.

"Come back soon?" Fitz asks.

It's both a question and a plea.

"Yes."

Jemma takes her bag and waves at them one last time, before walking up the ramp, being swallowed by the darkness of the jet.

The flight itself is quick and uneventful. She tries to sleep, but her mind is too active to calm down. There's a constant buzzing going through her whole body. The new challenge is demanding all of her attention.

She had always wanted to meet Peggy, even before she'd started at the academy. 

But not like this. 

Darkness has already fallen when she finally lands at the airfield near the Facility. The stars and the full moon - and floodlights - illuminate the night. Jemma hasn't seen the building in reality before, but it looks impressive.

Steve waits for her when she gets out of the jet. "Simmons. I'm glad you're here. Let me take your bag."

 

 

_**v.** _

 

 

Steve shows her the temporary quarters she'll live in during her stay first. Jemma has a look into everything quickly. It's a small apartment, and quite obviously only recently built. Modern furniture and minimalist colours are the primary reminders. He places the suitcase next to a grey couch.

"Would you it be alright if we visit her right now?" she asks. 

"Of course. We can go right now."

They leave the apartment and start walking through a maze of hallways.

"Why did you transfer her to the facility?" Jemma speeds up to hold Steve's pace. She is used to running since she met the giants Bobbi and Mack, with their insanely long legs. It's a little unfair, but unchangeable. 

He slows down to adjust to her shorter legs. "Better care. I wanted to her near."

Jemma nods. She understands.

"How are you coping?" she asks him quietly. It's a fine line she's walking on. She doesn't really know Steve, but she feels like she should ask. It feels like there aren't too many people who ask.

"She's one of my oldest friends. I don't want to lose her, even if it is inevitable."

They reach a quieter section and walk into the first room on the right side.

There's a visible difference between Peggy's room and the rest of the Facility. The room is well-lit, one of the walls is all glass, and nicely furnished. So is the rest of the area, but it is more homelike in here. The other three walls are painted in a soothing yellow. It's not Jemma's preferred colour, not anymore, but it is way better than a sterile white environment. She wonders who was responsible for the furniture choices.

Helen is standing on one side of the bed. The woman lying inside the bed is Peggy Carter, unmistakably. She radiates an aura of authority, even now. A sea of apparatuses is linked to her body.

"Simmons, it's nice to see you again. It's been too long." She says, as they're shaking hands.

"Hi, Helen. Yes, though I wish it were under better circumstances. How is she?"

"She sleeps most of the time."

They exchange more detail on Peggy's health situation, for more than an hour. She doesn't stir in her sleep once.

"When do we get started?"

"Preferably right now." Steve says. "You have a fully equipped lab. Whatever you need, you can have it. Is that alright with you?"

She and Helen nod in unison.

Let's get to work, Jemma thinks. 

 

 

_**vi.** _

 

 

Days pass by, like traffic in fast motion. Sleeping becomes a liability, taking away precious time they just don't have. At the one week mark they're nowhere closer to a solution than when she arrived.

Jemma had fallen asleep over her notes more than once, one memorable time even next to a switched on Bunsen burner. She's quite thankful her hair survives the incident unharmed. Helen doesn't do any better.

The GH 325 reports are not nearly as helpful as she thought they would be. But Steve had given her access to his medical file after she had asked, including data for the super soldier serum, which looks more promising.

Helen hands her the newest printout, just as pointless as the others before and a cup of steaming coffee. "You look like you need it."

"So do you." Jemma takes the first sip, tasting the much appreciated caffeine on her tongue. She lets out a soft sigh. "Thank you."

They spend the whole day in the lab, just like they did the past week, and test different formulas. Jemma switches the compounds systematically, crossing substance after substance off her list. It's enough to drive one mad.

"Does your new antibiotics cocktail work?" Jemma asks Helen around lunch time.

"It does look promising _in vitro_ , but I'm worried about the _in vivo_ effectiveness. What about you?"

"Nothing."  'Nothing' isn't even enough to describe her nonexistent achievements. She rubs sleep out of her eyes. It was going to be another long night.

The evening arrives sooner than any of them had expected and Helen decides to take a beak. Jemma follows her lead, decides to microwave the leftover pasta from yesterday's dinner and call Fitz in the meantime. She shoves some farfalle with pesto alla genovese into her mouth when he picks up.

"Hey Jemma, how is it going?"

"Slow and not at all. I don't know what to do. How about you?"

"Good. Bobbi's already walking around The Playground with her new splint. Though physical therapy is a bitch. She threw a medicine ball at Hunter yesterday."

Jemma lets out a hearty laugh. She doesn't even need to ask if she hit, they are talking about Bobbi after all. "How critically is Lance hurt?"

"He'll survive."

The memories of the first weeks of his physio- and ergotherapy hit her like a freight train. Fitz had never thrown anything at her. But they also hadn't communicated with each other in any form. Jemma doesn't know what is worse, if she's honest.

"Hey --- um, Jemma. I thought about something--- Maybe we should talk ---"

 "You want to talk? Now?" How Fitz chooses his timing is a real mystery to her, even after 10+ years of friendship.

"I know. Maybe not 'now' now, but 'soon'."

Jemmas stifles a laugh and she can hear Fitz doing the same. 

"Okay. What made you think?"

"Skye does some stress cleaning and formats her hard-drives. We found some old security footage. Ehm--- from when you were in quarantine when you were infected with the Chitauri virus."

Oh.

"Do you ever think about it?" 

"As little as possible." 

(More often than I'd like to.)

The memories are haunting her sometimes, the ghosts from her past. It's not the jump, though sometimes in her dreams she's falling and falling and falling and it never ends, until she wakes up screaming.

It's being trapped in passivity, isolated behind walls of glass, only the bystander on her own funeral, the virus slowly killing her and those around her. If they hadn't been able to produce an antiserum ---

"Why did you watch those again?"

"Skye is stressed. She says cleaning up her old laptops helps her think."

No.

Wait.

"Hold on."

Stress.

It could be possible. She and Helen had worked on fixing the damage, but the problem runs far deeper. Peggy isn't some twenty-something anymore. Her cells are not able to cope with the stress the infection causes them.

But --- But if she could stimulate the production of ATP, accelerate cell division and growth and reduce the oxidative stress, combined with immunostimulatory drugs and Helen's antibiotics cocktail ---

She'd have to synthesize a new substance --- Formulas and chemical structures, it all suddenly appears  out of nowhere, a thunder storm after a drought. A solution forms in her brain and she knows it's going to work.

"Are you still there, Jemma?"

"Yes. I have to go, Fitz. You're a genius. Call you later." She hangs up before he can reply anything and runs from her small two-room guest apartment down to the laboratory complex.

She prepares everything she'll need for the synthesis. It's a huge list and she needs the whole night and the following day until the end product is finished. 24 hours after her phone call with Fitz, she and Helen stand in Peggy's room and inject the finished serum.

"We have to wait and see. I can take the first shift?" Helen proposes.

"Alright."

 

_**vii.** _

 

 

It's 4am, the sun only a small strip on the horizon yet, when she's rudely awakened. 

Jemma is used to little sleep by now, she takes what she can get. She's used to getting up at unholy hours, always ready to move if necessary. Some part of her mind is always alert to the dangers around her, it had become part of her.

And yet it frightens her.

It never indicates anything positive.

 

_Nightmares?_

_Sometimes._

_How many nights out of a week?_

_5 out of 7, probably._

_Sometimes, huh?_

_It's not every night._

_What do you dream about._

_The ocean. Drowning. Losing Fitz. Failing. Falling._

 

A heavily armed guard bangs on her door, Maria Hill standing next to him. 

"Helen wants to see you."

"Why?"

"She didn't tell me. I worked a night shift and came across her by accident. She seemed agitated." Maria explains. There's a hint of curiosity in her voice, the strategic part of her brain running at full speed.

When Jemma arrives at the hospital ward, fixing her wrong buttoned blouse while walking - Helen already awaits her.

"What is happening?"

"Her fever is rising dangerously and she's in a lot of pain. We had to turn up the morphine."

Bad.

That's bad.

Fear settles in the pit of her stomach, the very thought of doing harm to Peggy filling her with nausea. Jemma thinks that she might throw up.

"But --- " Helen continues.

"But?"

Helen grabs two paper sheets from a desk next to her, handing them both over. "Look at the results. The first is the last one before we started with the serum, the second one just came in before I called for you."

Jemma takes a closer look at the numbers on the clinical reports, black numbers on white ground. She had seen the first one before, almost knows it by memory alone.

Peggy's red blood cells and her haemoglobin both are down, indicating an iron deficiency anaemia, certainly not uncommon for a woman her age. Her white bloods cells are elevated, due to a bacterial infection, but her blood culture had come back negative and they had treated her with Helen's antibiotics.

It's not exactly perfect, but it's not life-threatening.

She browses the second report, only to stop in the middle and start all over again. Her eyes read every single number at least twice before she dares to look up again.

"Her results are in the reference range. Every single one. Peggy's in a better shape than me, probably. When is this from?"

"I took her blood sample two hours ago."

"Are you sure it's her blood?"

"I ran the test myself. Three times, plus re-calibration and running controls.

"That's simply not possible."

"We have to await further developments, there's nothing else we can do right now."

So they wait. Again.

Jemma sends Helen to bed sometime around sunrise, while she takes the night watch. She tells herself that she can work on an explanation in the meantime, but she does little else than sitting in the chair beside Peggy and monitor her vitals.

During the morning her temperature drops to normal range, without any sign to rise again. Jemma also reduces the morphine therapy, when it becomes apparent that Peggy doesn't need the high dosage anymore.

By the time Helen comes back around lunch time, Jemma already knows that something is very very wrong.

 

 

_**viii.** _

 

 

"May?"

"Simmons, how are you doing?"

 _Good._  
_Great._  
_Fine._

Jemma is eternally grateful that Steve and Natasha are currently on a mission - Nat practically dragged him into the field with her, so he'd stop worrying. And Steve is a master, when it comes to worrying, just as pathological as herself. The weight of the world - past and present, weighs heavy on his shoulders.

At least she doesn't have to explain the situation to them immediately.

(She wouldn't be able to.)

Breaking the news to May had seemed like a good compromise when she'd dialled the number earlier, but she's less sure now. "I --- uhm --- did a thing?"

"What thing?" May asks suspiciously, likely alerted by her poor word choice or the way her voice rises a few octaves.

"Do you remember the unfortunate incident with Agent Sitwell?"

There's a sigh on the other end of the line and Jemma can almost hear May rolling her eyes. Of course she remembers. "What did you do this time?"

It's not malicious, only worried.

"That's a long story, really. It's not bad. Technically --- You should probably keep it a secret from Coulson---"

"Simmons. Is there a body?"

"I kind of, somehow, created a serum that rejuvenates people." Jemma says, as she watches a circa thirty year old Peggy Carter running on a treadmill, bringing mile after mile behind her, without breaking a sweat. She wouldn't believe it, if she wasn't standing here, watching it happen. Helen had hooked Peggy up on an electrocardiogram, so they could perform a stress test, and closely monitored every of her vitals.

The silence on the other end weighs heavy. "Do you want me to come?"

She thinks about it for a split second, immensely relieved by the offer. But she can't say yes, even if she wants to. Something holds her back, the string leads a different way through the labyrinth. Jemma has to follow her gut instinct; the vague, irrational feeling deep inside her.

"Thank you, but I think I can handle it. I just wanted to talk to you."

Jemma can practically hear the nod that follows, even if she can't see May. "Alright.."

A heavy weight is lifted from both her shoulders and her heart, the effect that comes with talking to May. Her body and her mind feel lighter again, now that May would carry the secret with her.

"I assume we're talking about Peggy here."

"Yes. She currently fine, but I'll need to stay a little longer to monitor her."

"Of course. I'll brief Coulson, without telling him anything." There's a short pause before May continues. "Simmons, once she's better, I'd like to meet her."

Peggy had been May's mentor in the years prior to Bahrain, Jemma knows as much, and had likely remained so afterwards. Her honest curiosity is only natural. There's an unspoken bond between them, and while she doesn't know how it was formed, Jemma knows that a lot of blood had been shed in the process.

"Of course."

 _There's a 90% chance I created the Fountain of Youth, but I'm doing totally fine._  

 

 

_**ix.** _

 

 

The sun glows orange, mixed with shades of purple and rose, the last rays of light falling through the large glass windows. Jemma labels the various blood collection tubes in front of her with determined efficiency - the patient's name and DOB, date and time.

Peggy watches intently, while Jemma searches for a good spot to place the needle. It's difficult to find a vein that hasn't been punctured today.

"I'm sorry for that." Jemma apologizes. She really is. During her studies, she and the other students had taken blood samples from each other, to learn and get a feeling for real patients. Lots of swearing and huge haematomata included. Jemma doesn't mind taking somebody's blood, quite enjoys it even, but she hates being on the other end of the needle.

"I don't mind being used as a pincushion. The doctors took quite a lot vials of Steve's blood, after his transformation, I remember."

"I can well believe it." She does the same right now, with three different tubes in her hands. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm thirty once again." Peggy laughs, light and sincere, but Jemma doesn't join in. "Good, unfamiliar with my own body, but not uncomfortable."

Once the the blood draw is done, Jemma puts the citrat and the lithium heparin tube into the centrifuge, the EDTA one on a roll mixer. She'd analyze them later.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Injecting the serum."

"Why?" Peggy looks honestly confused, as if it hadn't even crossed her mind yet. But Jemma is thinking about it non-stop, it is the only thought on her mind. Peggy hadn't asked for this to happen. 

She tries to explain, but her mind is blank. "I keep thinking about this story the whole time."

"What story?"

"It's a Japanese fairy tale." She had found it the day before, going through myriads of google search results for 'fountain of youth'. It is silly, she knows, truly knows, but it had helped her to ease her racing thoughts. Jemma wets her lips, before continuing.

_"An old woodcutter and his wife lived in the mountains alone. The man went into the woods everyday. One day he went in further into the forest than ever before. He found a spring with cold clear water. He drank from it and suddenly became a young man again. He ran home and immediately told his wife. His wife told him, he needed a young wife to love, so she would go to the spring too, while he waited for her at the house._

_The man waited and waited, but his wife didn't return. So he looked for her. When he reached the spring, there was nobody. In the grass near, he found a little baby in his wife's clothes. The old woman had drunk too much and transferred too far back in time. The man then took the baby into his arms, and sadly carried it home."_

Once Jemma is finished, she looks at the other woman expectantly. Peggy's loud laugh breaks the silence. "Am I a baby?", she asks amused.

"No."

"Is Steve an infant?"

"No."

"Then there's absolutely no need to worry."

"You don't hate me?"

"Of course not. You saved my life. Why would I hate you?"

Jemma shrugs her shoulders. People hadn't always reacted positively to her efforts lately. And the unintended consequence of the serum is a major intrusion in her life; something Peggy hadn't asked for.

"Maybe you don't want to be young again?"

Peggy raises an eyebrow at her. "Please don't worry about it. But I have another question: Are you going to reproduce your serum?"

"I don't know if it will work again. And the ethical reasons carry too much weight." Jemma says. "I probably won't. But no matter what, even if it's supposed to only happen once, I'm glad it's you."

Peggy turns her head in surprise, eyes wide and alert, and for a second Jemma fears she's said something wrong. But then the other woman relaxes and a soft smile curls around her lips.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

__

 

_**x.** _

 

 

"If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?"

She catches Jemma off-guard, so much she almost drops her documents. Peggy is as stealthy as a ninja, suddenly appearing next to her on the staircase from the lab to the apartments. She hadn't slept at all last night. Except for 10 beautiful minutes with her head on the table, the smell of disinfectant in her nose, until a false alert from the analyzer had woken her again.

She only nods, suddenly nervous, bracing herself. "If you go back to your room afterwards. You're still confined to bed."

"Whatever. Why did SHIELD fall?"

Jemma stops and looks at her in surprise.

She would ask her how she got that information, so damn fast, but she's talking to Peggy Carter, the founder of aforementioned spy organization - she's a smart woman, who can put two and two together without anybody's help.

Even despite her disease she probably noticed what was going during the last few months, maybe not in its entirety, but enough.

"I don't think I'm qualified to give you an answer." She tries to dodge the proverbial bullet, somehow avoiding explain the topic any further. It's nothing she wants to talk about.

"Try."

Jemma takes a deep breath.

There are no words or phrases existing inside her to properly describe it. There are emotions and pictures when she closes her eyes, feelings buried so deep down inside her they haven't seen the light of day.

So she opts for the easiest answer.

"HYDRA." Peggy looks as if she wants to disagree, so Jemma quickly completes, "Again."

The invisible burden of defeat, heavier than any physical weight, takes over her features for only seconds. It's similar to the grief-stricken expression Steve wears when he thinks nobody watches him, before he remembers he needs to be a trustworthy leader.

(Sometimes Jemma sees the same when she's looking into the mirror.)

But Peggy quickly recovers, the surprise of the revelation melting away. Rage gleams in the depths of her brown eyes, like wild-fire clearing land. Hate washes over her like waves crushing at the shore, forces of nature colliding.

"How?"

"They survived inside SHIELD for decades, traitors and sleepers. They fooled their friends and colleagues. Nobody saw it coming."

Not exactly true.

It had been a long time coming, but they'd been too blinded by the boundless faith in the good of SHIELD. And they had done good, Jemma is certain. But in the end it hadn't been enough.

She's done the same, on behalf of the greater good.

Lied and cheated and infiltrated - for the greater good.

(For Fitz.)

(And for herself.)

Peggy takes in what she's saying, weighing her words. Her eyes soften and she stares at Jemma for a long moment. It's not uncomfortable, unfamiliar maybe. May has the same way of looking at somebody.

"I take it you fought against them?"

"Watched it happen from the front row."

A pondering silence hangs in the air between them.

"I'm sorry." Peggy says.

And again, Jemma is taken by surprise. "What for?"

"I couldn't prevent it. I haven't noticed. All these years --- I wanted to keep the world safe." Peggy searches for words. Tears shimmer in her eyes now. " Maybe I knew, deep down. As my retirement approached, SHIELD started to become less of what it had been when I founded it, less of what it could be. I started a war and good people died.

Jemma doesn't know how to answer. "It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You didn't know."

"Neither did you." Peggy puts a hand on her shoulder and smiles hesitantly. "You hide it, rather well if I'm allowed to say so, but I have years of experience under my belt. I noticed. Maybe you should start telling yourself that, too."

She turns around around and heads back to her room again, leaving Jemma alone in the staircase with her emotional turmoil.

 

 

_**xi.** _

 

 

They return two days later.

Jemma asks Helen, if she can be the one who tells him. She's rather convinced that Steve doesn't believe in the 'Kill The Messenger' mentality, yet she's the one who created the serum in the first place so it should be her to tell him.

Helen doesn't mind, only wishes her luck

Jemma stands a little awkward in the doorway to Steve's office, knocking at the already ajar door.

"Simmons! Please come in." He looks even more tired than before he left, if that's humanly possible. His hair is full of some greasy substance, almost like motor oil, and there's a cut above his left eye.

Jemma accepts his invitation and steps into the room. It is only then that she notices Natasha standing in the corner, peeling a blood-soaked wound dressing from her thighs. The injury looks severe, but Nat puts her off. "Don't worry. That's nothing."

Doesn't look like nothing, she thinks, but she doesn't voice her thoughts. It's not her place to judge. Natasha would ask for help if she needed any. Nobody is more capable than her.

Jemma's not sure why she's nervous at all, she shouldn't be. She did nothing wrong, not in the usual sense.

On some level she's even filled with pride and she has to try hard to not be smug about it, because there's absolutely no reason for her to be.

But she still is, a little. 

(Especially since Peggy had practically given her absolution.)

Nobody had ever done what she had accomplished, not even Erskine all those years ago. He had made a super soldier out of Steve, but Steve hadn't been an old man then. Erskine had turned a small man into a bigger man.

She had defied a law of nature.

But not everything about the situation is as rosy at it seems on the first glance, she knows as much.

Turning back Peggy's biological clock might sound like the 8th world wonder, but there are layers and layers to it, that the public won't understand, maybe not even insiders. 

Jemma doesn't know how Steve will react, so she searches for a sign 

It's the way Sam talks to Steve in hushed voices, when they think nobody hears them. All of his friends from his time are dead and he's alone. Except for Barnes, who is still on the run and Peggy, who was about to die soon until two days ago - until she'd changed the course of nature.

"Simmons?" Steve's voice brings her back into reality.

Natasha stares at her for a second longer, registering the obvious tension in Jemma's posture, her impatient behaviour. "I'll go and look for Helen. Don't want this nasty thing to get infected, do I?" She's out of the room with a wave of her hand. "See you later."

Steve looks after Nat, before turning his attention back to Jemma. "You look like bad news."

"It's not bad. Her condition didn't worsen while you were away."

"That sounds like a good thing." Hope sneaks into his words. Jemma doesn't have the heart to destroy it. And she won't have to. It's not bad, only not what they had expected. 

"It is."

He smiles at her cautiously, the apparent weariness melting away slightly.

"Steve --- You should ---"

"Can I see her?" he interrupts, still hoping.

"Yes, it's for the best if, you see for yourself."

 

 

_**xii.** _

 

 

He follows her to the hospital ward, like a kitten its mother. The sound of their footsteps, echoing from the walls, is the only noise in the empty hallway. Her strides are fast, his even more so.

"You said her condition didn't worsen."

"It didn't."

Steve frowns at this. "Simmons?"

They stop in front of Peggy's room. Jemma composes herself as well as possible. 

It's good positive news. Shocking, but positive.

"Steve --- Maybe I should warn you, there have been some unexpected side effects."  

"What are we talking about?"

Instead of answering his question, Jemma knocks on the door and opens it. Peggy is sitting on the bed, her eyes fixed on the television. She shifts her attention to Steve the moment he enters the room behind her.

They just stare at each other, frozen in time, totally oblivious to clocks ticking. The moment they lay eyes on each other something shifts - in this room, in the universe itself. Like it is trying to fix a mistake from another lifetime.

 _No energy is created and none is destroyed_. It finds itself again, in different places, with years between.

"Peggy."

"Steve."

It's all they are saying. Nothing but their names come out, words whispered by ghosts. Steve closes the distance between them, until he is right in front of her. His hand is hesitant as he reaches out to touch her face. As if only contact would make it real, as if she would fade otherwise.

Tears stream down their faces, and Jemma's.

She slowly backs out of the room, to give them some space.

Sure, she's curious, who wouldn't be? Curiosity is an integral part of her personality, she is a scientist after all.

But she also knows how it feels when everybody's watching you, waiting for a reaction you're not going to show.

(At least not in front of them.)

When you're always walking on eggshells, on air, on broken glass. It hurts, and she can't even imagine how it must feel for them. 70 years have passed. That's a lot of lost time, especially on Peggy's part. She had lived her life - a full life without Steve .

Jemma doesn't even want to imagine it.

They'll need time. To catch up. To reconnect. 

Yes, something in the universe shifts.

A new dawn has come.

Everything would be alright.

 

 

_**xiii.** _

 

 

Raised voices from the gym attract her attention the next morning. She finds Steve, with eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline and Peggy, arms crossed in front of her body defiantly. 

"Let's just file it under physical therapy."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You're not in charge."

"Technically, I am in charge."

I'm older than you, Steve."

"I'm rather sure, I'm older."

"I lived longer. Experience outdoes age."

Jemma's eyes follow their conversation like a ping pong match. She puts up her hands in defeat. "What's going on?"

"She wants to go out for a run. Outside of the Facility."

"She -" Peggy interrupts annoyed "- can hear you and wants to breathe fresh air again."

"It's too dangerous." Steve says. His eyes shine with pain and fear - the fear of losing her again after finally finding her again. Maybe Steve is right.

"I agree with him. It is dangerous." Jemma steps in. 

Peggy's gaze softens. She reads them like open books. "I'll be careful. And I won't go alone. Simmons can escort me. We'll be fine. Right?"

Both of them look at her expectantly. "I don't think there's anything speaking against a short walk."

Peggy grins triumphantly. "And I'd be be eternally grateful, if you could steal the documents Steve clings to. I'm almost 100. I can bear the knowledge on how my organization was destroyed." 

Jemma notices the papers in his hands.

If forced to choose between following the orders of Peggy 'Actual Founder of Shield' Carter or Steve 'I'm Captain America' Rogers, well --- Jemma takes the manila envelope from Steve's hands with an apologetic look and starts trailing behind Peggy.

"Sorry", she says over her shoulder, "she's my hero."

Steve shrugs with his shoulders, a knowing smile on his face. "I get it. She's mine too."

 

 

_**xiv.** _

 

 

 **Jemma's list of things ACTUALLY said by someone (in no particular order)**  

 

\- Peggy (to Nat): You're not the first Black Widow I fought. (What the hell??? Further research required.)

\- Peggy (to me): I know I said I don't mind, but I'm not a blood bank. Less is more. (No.)

\- Sam (to Steve): You know, I understand now why you were moping over her all this time. Would've too. Can't wait to meet the sad Russian again.

\- Nat (to Peggy): You're way cooler than Steve. (Everybody laughed, except Steve. Nat bought him an ice cream cone in blue, red and white in compensation. Still didn't laugh.)

\- Sam (to me): You need a superhero name. I'd name you Captain America, but that's already taken. And Captain English isn't right either. From now on you'll be Captain Scientist. How does that sound? (no comment.)

\- Peggy (to Steve): I had a girlfriend after you were lost. (the true captain america, right? memo: ask skye to find out infos about angie martinelli)

\- Steve (to anybody who would listen): Could we please stop making fun of my life? (Nobody listened. Poor Steve.)

\- Literally everyone (to Peggy): You probably shouldn't do that yet. (Ever.)

\- Peggy (to literally everyone): Fight me. (Note: Sam introduced her to memes. She and Steve are unstoppable now.)

 

 

_**xv.** _

 

 

The scene in front of her is a sight for gods, in the best possible way.

Jemma pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket and snaps a few photos, only so it can be recorded for future generations.

To be honest, she hadn't thought of Steve as a skilled dancer. His physical stature - whilst nice and symmetrical - isn't exactly built for it. But she had been wrong. Peggy and Steve are twirling round the dance floor. Their their dancing style doesn't really match the song that is playing, but they don't really seem to care.

She's not sure who of them brought it up, both of them had hinted at something jokingly more than once - with a glint of sadness in their eyes. Apparently there existed some unpaid debt between them. A promise that involved a dance.

Natasha, Wanda and Jemma had organized the short getaway and now they're rewarded with the pleasure of watching the outcome.

"They're cute, but maybe we should get them a better song?" Wanda proposes. It's one of the few times she's talked this evening. She's very quiet, toying with the rings on her hands for the most part, and Jemma can't blame her. She'd heard what happened to her brother.

"Good idea." Natasha leaves their table and walks up to the DJ.

Wanda and Jemma curiously follow the interaction. The poor man looks fairly confused and about to refuse her. But Natasha's charm - a hair strand curled around her index finger, mouth pouted prettily - seems to close the deal. The DJ is completely smitten with her, hanging on her lips like a lovesick teenager. Amazing, Jemma thinks.

Only moments later Natasha returns to them. "They don't have anything from their time." Jemma frowns, but it's not unexpected. They're in a hip night club, the tunes of the 40's don't really hit the latest trends. But Nat smiles her very own smile, the one that spells trouble. "But he'll play us something better."

A single note, and then the voice of Bill Medley echoes from the boxes through the whole club.

 _Now I've had the time of my life_  
_No I never felt like this before_

Jemma presses a hand before her mouth to stop laughing. "Seriously?"

Wanda seems just as amused. Natasha grins wickedly. "You bet."

Watching them dance together is beautiful. They look happier than Jemma has ever seen them before. They had to wait a long time for their dance, and it seems totally worth it. Somewhere in the back, on the other end of the club, Jemma can see Sam and Maria dancing together. Though it's less dancing, than swaying hips and making out together.

Suddenly Steve puts a hand around Peggy's hip, spinning her full circle, before dipping her back and pressing a desperate kiss to her lips. The three of them start cheering from their spot on the couches, utterly embarrassing them. But it doesn't matter. For once something good has happened and they'd celebrate the shit out of it. The song ends and Peggy walks towards them, while Steve heads to the bar.

"Oscar-worthy." Nat slowly claps for her.

Peggy bows before them. She slides into the booth next to Jemma. "Thank you. 

"Well, I wouldn't be a miracle worker, if I couldn't make a night out happen. And " Jemma smiles sadly to herself and stirs in her cocktail with a black straw, watching the pink liquid swirling.

"What is it?" Peggy asks, concern slipping into her voice.

"Nothing." Jemma bites her lip, "Did you know Antoine Triplett?"

Peggy nods. "Sure. He was about the same age as Sharon, they practically grew up together. I talked to her yesterday. She told me about his death." She takes a sip from her drink. "How did you get to know him?"

"Through the worst possible circumstances. Hydra. His SO betrayed him, us, SHIELD. Trip decided to stay with us. He became our colleague. Our friend. He was my responsibility."

Tears well up in her eyes out of the sudden; she tries to blink them away. Jemma had thought that there weren't any left anymore. But maybe their time of grief had been too short, maybe the therapy is a good idea. "And then he died."

"I'm sorry." Peggy takes her hand and squeezes gently. "What happened?"

"It's a long story - a cave in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Trip went after a friend of ours, he tried to save her. An earthquake - happened. It was nobody's fault."

(Except hers.)

"So he did it out of his free will?"

"Yes, though it doesn't make it any easier."

"I understand." Peggy's gaze wanders across the room. Jemma follows with her own and finds Steve, who comes back with their next round of drinks. "But you can't take away his right to choose, it's not fair to him."

"I know. Doesn't make it any easier." Jemma takes out the straw and chugs down the rest of her strawberry daiquiri. The warm fuzzy feeling of alcohol spreads down her oesophagus. "I just want to keep them safe."

"The pain of losing fades, it lessens with time. But it never truly leaves. It's why we get up and try again, to do them justice." 

Her words and the wisdom behind it, don't match with the young face. It's different than talking to Steve. He had been born in a different century, but then been frozen in ice. Peggy had lived a full life, had seen the darker sides of humanity in the 20th century. 

Steve reaches the table and hands them their drinks. Jemma tastes hers and grimaces. "Steve, how fucking drunk do you want to get us?"

"You shouldn't use that kind of language around Steve. He's very sensitive." Natasha smirks, almost looking like the snake from 'The Jungle Book'.

Peggy almost spits out her drink. "Since when? Steve swears like a sailor."

"It was one time, Romanoff. Will you ever let it go?"

"No. But speaking of, we should watch 'Frozen' again."

 

 

_**xvi.** _

 

 

"Wanna have some fun?"

If anyone asks her later - and somebody will ask, Jemma is 98% sure - she won't be able to explain the chain of events that led her to this exact moment, at least not in detail. But, and Jemma is very certain, it had started with this question.

But here she is , surrounded by Steve and Peggy and wearing some really tight - fitting tactical gear.

Peggy had asked her exactly three more questions:

1."You can help us infiltrate a HYDRA base and secure biological weapons? (Of course she can.)  
2\. "You know how to shoot somebody? (She does.)  
3\. "You're ready for this?" (She is.)

Then they had made their way to the operational command center to - quote - 'talk Steve into this'. Well, it worked. He hadn't been head over heels into the idea, but Peggy's enthusiasm had been contagious.

They're going in blind, mostly. A blueprint of the floor had been all they had had to prepare. Jemma doesn't know where the vault is, only the correct floor. They'll have to search every room.

Steve tilts his head to the right side and looks round the corner of the hallway. They move along the corridor, fast and silently like predators, closer towards the rooms they presume the vault in. Jemma's in the middle, with Steve leading the way and Peggy shielding her from behind. 

The first two rooms are a failure - a broom closet and a simple office - but the third one contains the vault. Steve kicks at it a few times, then yanking of the door.

"Nice kick."

They secure the ten syringes and barely make it out of the room again, before they're getting into trouble.

A group of darkly clad men, maybe a dozen, is approaching them. Steve and Peggy assume combat position instantly, opting for direct attack. 

"Jemma, take the shield!

Steve throws the shield in her direction and it lands in the wall behind her. Jemma pulls it out of the wall, and ducks behind it to shield herself from being shot. She feels the shock of bullets hitting the shield vibrating in her arm, but she holds it in place as steady as possible. It works, the Vibranium is as bulletproof as it is supposed to be.

The gunfire subsides momentarily and Jemma takes the chance to get a good overview of her surroundings. Peggy throws her knee into one of the man's abdomen, then slams his head against the wall. Steve essentially mimics her motions, though he throws his opponent through the door to a closet room, before focusing on the next one.

Another one is running straight towards her, a gun tightly gripped in his hand. Jemma reacts like on autopilot. She doesn't run away, it's a dead end anyway, but right into his path. She straps the shield to her arm and whacks it over the man's head.

He stumbles back, surprised by the sudden attack. Jemma uses the advantage, takes another swing at his skull and this time he goes down.

"The small hit the hardest." 

"We should do this more often." Peggy says, winking at her. "Come, let's get out of here."

They run down a flight of stairs, without being seen by the enemy.

They almost make it to the exit.

Almost.

An ear-shattering detonation goes off inside the building and has it shaking, like a leaf in the wind.

Jemma feels Steve's grip on her upper arm, pulling her with him as fast as possible. She notices the shield being raised above her head and curls up her body in foetal position.

Then everything goes black.

 

 

_**xvii.** _

 

 

_Do you ever think about leaving?_

_I already left once._

_I was talking about something more permanent._

_Forever?_

_Yes._

_No._

_Why?_

_I wouldn't know who I am without Shield. What would I do?_

_You're a biochemist. Any company would take you with the greatest pleasure. You could leave everything behind._

_No. We're more than a team, more than colleagues. They're my friends, my family._

_I noticed._

_Then you know why I can't leave._

_You feel responsible for them._

_I do, yes._

_You don't carry the world on your shoulders, Dr. Simmons. You're not responsible for everything bad that happened._

_I know, logically._

_And emotionally?_

_Dr. Garner ---_

_Yes?_

_You know I once jumped out of a flying plane?_

_May mentioned it._

_I'm a scientist. I solely rely on facts and logic. That's the nature behind science. But when it comes to my friends it's --- I jumped out of an airplane once to save them, and I'd do it again. Some people call it bravery, but that's not true. It's all I can do. This is who I am. And it's okay._

 

 

_**xviii.** _

 

 

When Jemma opens her eyes again, she immediately knows she's not in the building anymore and the mission is over. There is the dimmed glow of a bedside lamp and she can feel a soft mattress under her back. She looks around, but her head feels dizzy and everything hurts. The world spins in front of her eyes and she closes them for a few heartbeats, before she gives it another try.

Only then she notices the intravenous access in the crook of her left elbow, linking her to a bag of fluids.

And the three bodies, sleeping in uncomfortable chairs, their heads on the right side of her bed. Fitz, Skye and Lance had sunk down in almost impossible yoga-like positions. Fitz's hand holds onto hers tightly, Skye drools on the bed sheets and Hunter snores like a bear.

They look an awful lot like toddlers. Or puppies, that's up for discussion. Jemma smiles at them affectionately. Those are her lovable idiots, and she wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

Jemma tries shift into a more comfortable position, but her tired body foils her plan. Every intake of breath hurts. She blinks away tears of pain, breathing out silently as to not wake her entourage. Bruises are spread all over her skin; bright purple, violent red. 

Jemma pokes her index finger into a big one on her upper arm, old habits die hard. It hurts less than she'd have expected.

There's a gap in her memory, a black spot on white canvas. She'd extracted the virus from the vault --- and then everything blurs into a maelstrom of nothingness. Jemma tries to jog her memory, when images of debris falling down hit her.

The bomb.

The collapsing building.

"You're awake," a quiet voice says, startling her. Jemma turns her head and finds Peggy in the doorway, directly followed by May. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by building." Jemma says with a hint of gallows humour. Neither Peggy nor May seem to find her funny. "As good as can be expected under the circumstances. Thank you for asking."

"You put on quite a show, girl." For one moment Peggy sounds just like Trip and Jemma can't help but think, that maybe this is where he got it from. "A concussion and two cracked ribs." 

"Are you and Steve alright? Why did the bomb go off?"

She nods. "Steve has always been hard to kill. And your serum has an equal effect." Peggy's hands raise her blouse. There had been a huge bruise, covering her whole right side, but is already fading. Only a minor yellowish shadow is left. 

"HYDRA decided that your death is more valuable than the lives of their minions. SHIELD has recovered six bodies from the rubble already. " It's May who answers her question.

“I have a meeting with The 'New' Avengers. You’ll be alright?”

Jemma nods and Peggy leaves them alone with a little wave. May stays and watches her intently.

"I'm sorry. For causing you trouble," she apologizes.

"Don't worry, Simmons. The only important thing is that you're alright." May smiles and Jemma relaxes a little. May pauses in the doorway for a second. "But if I get grey hairs, I'll blame them on you. You should get some rest."

Jemma laughs, but her ribs protest and she stops straightaway. Her exhaustion - or the medication flowing into her blood stream - make her sleepy. The room blurs in front of her eyes and she gives up to staying awake any longer, following May’s advice.   

The three Musketeers wake up together with her a few hours later. They look tired and Jemma feels bad for being the reason behind it.

"We met Peggy already." Skye says with a tone of amazement that resembles her own. Fitz nods in agreement.

"I take full responsibility."

"Who else would be responsible?" Lance asks. Three people punch him in various body parts.

"Am I stupid?"

"Yeah, a little bit. But it's okay. We put up with you nonetheless." Jemma answers nonchalantly.

 

 

_**xix.** _

 

 

Standing upright for longer than an hour isn't possible, and Helen still has her on bedrest. Jemma secretly believes that it's Peggy is the one who holds the reigns, as a punishment for her own strict bedrest. Luckily her current work doesn't require walking anyway.

She works out her records about the serum, trying to get a better insight into the biochemical mechanism of Peggy's change. She never had any doubt that the serum would work, but the effect is still unbelievable.

There's a knock on the door and Fitz enters the room.

"How are you feeling?"

The question should annoy her by now, given how often she is asked it, but it doesn't. True concern colours his voice.

"Good. The headache is gone."

They smile at each other.

"We should talk," he says.

"We should."

"Why does it feel like we only ever do that when one of us is in immediate danger of getting severely injured?"

"Because statistically we do." 

Fitz nods absently, fumbling the buttons of his shirt. She likes the pattern, dark plaid that brings out the blue of his eyes. Her breath catches in her throat. It's so clear what she wants, right in front of her.

Bobbi's injury had showed her how much she wanted to express her feelings, before it was too late. But Peggy and Steve had showed her how to use second chances. Carpe diem - seize the day. Everything she wants expands in front of her eyes.

It is her choice. And she is going to make use of it.

"Fitz?"

"Hmm?"

"We could do something better than talking?"

"What?"

"I'd like to kiss you."

His mouth opens and closes a few times and he looks like a fish out of water. "Yeah - Sure. I mean, you're sure? You're not just saying this because of the pain killers?"

"Oh Fitz... I promise there are 0% pain killers involved."

His smile widens and Jemma takes it as a yes. She leans forward, closing the distance between them. The butterflies return in full force, tickling inside her stomach. Warmth spreads over her cheeks. His lips taste of sunshine and the fragrance of her own lip balm, strawberry.

"Why haven't we done this before?" Fitz asks between kisses, when they're catching their breath.

She smiles wickedly. "We're very stupid geniuses. Now stop talking."

Jemma has her mouth on his again before he can argue, but Fitz doesn't. He definitely shouldn't. She is a great kisser. 

Time moves around them, but neither of them notices and neither cares. It could be seconds or hours or weeks or centuries. It doesn't matter. Jemma has made her choice and she's going to fight for it. Nobody is ever going to take away her life from her. They'd have to pry her happiness from her cold dead hands.

(Never. She would never let it happen.)

"Found them! Oh my god." 

They jump apart, both blushing deep red from head to toe. Lance is laughing at them.

"Is it going to be like this from now on? Finding you in compromising situations everywhere?" 

"Why can't we have peace for once?" Fitz mutters under his breath, his accent more evident than usual. Jemma files it under 'things to remember'.

"Obviously our intelligence is too much for this universe to handle. That's why we're punished with Lance."

"Obviously."

"We could continue this in a less frequented place. My room has a security lock."

"I like the way you think."

"Me too."

 

 

 

_**xx.** _

 

 

In the end, they stay longer than planned. First it's her - irrelevant - injury that keeps them at the Facility. But days turn into weeks and neither of them wants to leave. The lab at the Playground is nowhere near as good as it is here. The technology, the companionship, it's keeping them here.

They know they have to leave again eventually, they're only pushing the limits a bit.

In the end one call from Coulson terminates their small, beautiful arrangement. 

Jemma still can't believe how they had ended up like this. It had started out innocently enough, only a measure to save Peggy - even if only for a little longer.

But now the field had switched, right in front of her feet. _Walk over 'Go', collect 200 and be happy again_. An instruction so easy, it feels manageable. The winds are changing, air under her imaginary wings, flying flying flying.

Jemma is right where she had started and she even feels the same: Tired. But it's different; it's the good kind of tired, the knowledge of having won both the battle and the war imprinted in her bones.

The quinjet is ready to take off; Jemma can see May's silhouette in the cockpit. The former emergency bag is sitting by her feet. The first harbingers of an upcoming storm whip strands of hair into her face. Steve, Peggy and Helen make up her farewell committee.

"It's a shame you need to go home." Peggy yells over the howling wind.

"Yes, but it is necessary. We have jobs to do. And I do miss my own bed."

"No, you did good."

"Are you going to resume your position as director of SHIELD?" Jemma asks. They've reached an unprecedented situation. 

"I'm gonna have to talk to Coulson, but I don't think he has any objections." Peggy winks, before turning serious again. "Many things went wrong over the course of the last years, but not this time. It's a second chance, if you will. To do it better."

Jemma nods her approval. This is what her life is about now, getting second chances and using them. All of it feels too important to let it go unused. She doesn't believe in fate, it's not logical - it's not controllable, but this is the closest they'll ever get.

"Thank you for everything. I don't know I'd ever repay you."

"You did." Jemma answers honestly. And it is the truth. She feels different than weeks ago, when she had arrived here. Like her inner equilibrium is finally restored again.

"Can I give you one last advice? Saving others doesn't mean you have to kill yourself. Save yourself too." Steve groans loudly and Peggy slaps him on the shoulder playfully. "I tell him all the time and he never listens. Maybe you will."

Peggy opens her arms and pulls Jemma into a full hug. "I'm gonna miss you, Captain Scientist.", she whispers into her ear, barely audible. Jemma nods, trying to internalize her words. Peggy lets go, and Jemma is being crushed by Steve instantly. Her ribs give a wince of pain under the pressure. Helen's hug is less shattering.

"I'll visit again."

"Once I'm director I'll move you here." Peggy winks, but it sounds like a promise. Jemma doesn't doubt it for a second.

The engine starts roaring, May's not so subtle sign to go on board.

She waves back at them and walks up the ramp into the jet. 

The darkness doesn't seem so frightening anymore.

  

 

_**xxi.** _

 

 

_How do you feel?_

_Better._

_Sounds good._

_It does. It is._

 

 

_**xxii.** _

 

 

The story ends like this:

 

~~_The End._ ~~

 

Wrong.

It doesn't.

It goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Title comes from the lyrics of 'Sinners' from Lauren Aquilina.
> 
> ~ Big shout out to threedrinkamy/Sam for beta-ing. :)
> 
> ~ I truly love science. I'd marry it if I could. Unfortunately I haven't found the fountain of youth (yet). Jemma's amazing serum only consists of nice sounding words. Sorry. 
> 
> ~ Italics are dialogue between Andrew and Jemma during their therapy sessions.
> 
> ~ The song choice for the club scene (which already existed at that point) was inspired by the ongoing dubsmash war on twitter. Please thank Hayley and Chris for it. 
> 
> ~ The Japanese Fairy Tale is real and you can find the full text here: http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/books/japan/hearn/fountainyouth.html
> 
> ~ This work also includes one Scrubs and The Newsroom reference. Let me know if you found them.
> 
> ~ Please let me know what you think about it. You can also find me @ mightyjemma.tumblr.com. :)


End file.
